


Teen to Adult

by arlenejp



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms, Sherlock Holmes - Arthur Conan Doyle
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-31
Updated: 2017-10-03
Packaged: 2019-01-08 17:46:51
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 4,834
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12259104
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/arlenejp/pseuds/arlenejp
Summary: John had a teen crush on a man.





	1. A Surprise Meeting

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this months ago. Decided it needed a remake. Here it is.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John is at a doctors conventions, runs into a man from his teen days

What a bumpy plane ride it is from New York to Las Vegas, the weather being rough all the way out. The landing is easy, at least. After gathering my bags from the airport I take a cab to my hotel.

* * *

I've been waiting a long time for this particular week-long Doctors Convention. Coordinate plans with my wife Mary and my assistant nurse Molly, both work in my clinic.  
Up in my room I change clothes to a simple plaid shirt, jumper and khaki trousers.  
In my forties, I still have that slender look, with a bit of tummy beginning to pooch out. A drink at the bar would be good. Soothe my body and maybe help me sleep better. I know that’s a fallacy, but still.

* * *

The hotel is much grander than one I normally would stay at. This bedroom has a king-size bed, a Jacuzzi bathtub. The room is all done in muted shades of blue and brown. Setting my clothes into the closet and drawers, my toiletries in the bathroom laid out for the morning, I go down the elevator to the main floor.  
Posh place, thinking to myself in my British way.  
Grinning to myself, but before getting to the bar I hear a voice calling my name from behind me.

I turn around, not recognizing him until he gets close. ‘Oh’, I think,- not sure I WANT to meet up with him. I know I’m blushing, can feel my cheeks hot.

* * *

          "John, John Watson! Remember me from our high school days? It's me, Sherlock Holmes."

          "Yes, yes Sherlock." I think he is going to shake hands so out goes mine. Instead, he grabs me in a bear hug, and I politely push him off me.

          "Let me look at you, John. The years have been good to you, ”his arms hold me out from him, inspecting me up and down.

I snort and look to Sherlock. He's still very skinny. His hair still black with a touch of gray in places and very, very curly, almost unruly as always. I make him look even taller than he is, standing next to him. Has that intense stare..that can bore into your mind and see it all.

          "You’re here for the doctor's convention. So you did become a doctor, after all!" Sherlock places his hand on my back and proceeds to walk with me, no pushes me into the bar.

          "Sherlock, it's been great to see you, but I would like to have some time for myself. I just arrived and have jet lag."

He peers deeply at me...I'm sure he can read that I want him away from me.

          "Why not meet tomorrow night at the main bar, say about seven. We can catch up on our lives since we last were together."  
I can't help it...I agree to meet him. He’s always had the ability to entice me into anything.

All the next day, sitting at the lectures, I'm reviewing in my mind my 'adventures' with Sherlock when we were teens.


	2. England and the Teens

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John goes to England to stay at Sherlocks house

I was a seventeen-year-old exchange student from New York. Sherlock Holmes' family in England is where I went to stay for my senior year in school.  
A limousine picked me up from the airport and Sherlock was in the car. Upon meeting him for the first time I was impressed with his intelligence and his arrogance, mostly his arrogance. He and I were opposites in looks. He, tall, skinny, angular face, hazel-green eyes that could bore through you, dark curly hair that always escaped combing down. Me, short, stocky, ordinary face, blue eyes and blonde hair

* * *

The family house was just outside of London. And what a house! It was almost mansion size. There were three servants. A cook, maid and one man who not only drove them around but did odd jobs.

* * *

Mum and Dad were top officials in the government, being so busy we very rarely spent time with them. He had an older brother Mycroft, already in university. It was rare when he showed up. He was studying for a role in politics.

* * *

I had my own room in the same wing as Sherlock. The house was old but livable. My room had a queen-size bed, a large wood desk along with a wood padded chair. I was suitably impressed. My window looked out over a garden of flowers, you could make out a vegetable garden that cook kept.

* * *

It took a few days to get used to the layout of the house. Sherlock kept to his room and I was left to roam, get to know the servants.

* * *

Our class schedule was the same and the only difference was he had science and politics where I had chemistry and anatomy.  
The girls were easy to come by. They liked my American accent and me their British.  
I tried to get Sherlock to join us but he was never interested, Anyways, none of the girls liked him. He was too standoffish. And rude.

* * *

I'm having a hard time with science questions. I know Sherlock can help, taking my papers and book, I walk into his bedroom, door open. He’s lying on the bed, face down, in tight jeans and a white button-down shirt, magazine propped on the pillow. I presume it’s a science or fantasy magazine.

He jumps, seeing me, sits up and the magazine goes behind his back.

My grin wide. "So, my friend, you DO know about sex," having a sneaky suspicion it’s a porn magazine. Advancing on him, I put out my hand. Pushing me away from the tabloid, I jump on the bed, begin wrestling him. He has a number of them that I see and I reach around him to grab one. It takes a glance at the cover for my thoughts to fly. It's a magazine for gay men.

* * *

          "Sherlock, you're-."

          "Yes, John I am. Now give me the magazine and forget you saw it."

I couldn’t give it back but, begin to rifle through the pages...fascinated at a world I had heard of but knew nothing about.

* * *

Sherlock gets off the bed and looks down at me, sitting on the edge. I look up into his face, solemn but cautious.  
          "Want to have a go? You might enjoy it. I thought you might be hiding some gay in you."

          "Nooo, not at all", drop the magazine,rush out and into my room, as he follows and sits on my bed.

          "Come here," patting a place next to him.  
          "Just give me a little kiss. You know you’re curious."

* * *

Reluctantly I had to agree, I sit down. He turns his face to me, puts his hand on my jaw, he kisses me on the lips touching lightly.

All of a sudden my heart beats fast. I didn’t want him to stop. Putting a hand to the back of his head, lean into him and press my lips begging for more. His mouth opens, his tongue explores. What a strange feeling!! This is a man's lips. I feel the slight fuzz over his upper lip.  
But I’m aroused-no doubt about it. I break away...shaking, my body going to fast for my brain to process. Fantastic and scary. All at the same time. Emotions, turmoil.

* * *

Sherlock stares, asks what later on I judge to be the turning point. "Do you want to have sex with me, John? I have a crush on you."

          "OH SHIT! You can't be- I mean-. OH SHIT! You mean it! You've caught me by surprise. And SHIT! Oh SHIT."

          "I understand your surprise. But I do want you whenever and whatever you want. I’ll be waiting for you."

Leaving my room, I sink down on the bed to try my best to think this through. NOW what John? I did not sleep that night, in the morning I avoided him, not speaking of it as we headed off to school.

And our daily routine continued like that. As if nothing had transpired between us. We each were aware that something had. Something BIG!

* * *

Two weeks pass and I can't avoid it anymore. He’s gotten bolder, touching me unexpectantly, brushing my hand, patting my backside. All with no one around to see. I look for it. Closing the space between us, expecting, it emphasizing that I want more, much more.

* * *

At dinner one night, his Mum home, I whisper to him, as I'm picking up the salt shaker, "I’ll come to your room around one am...just to talk".

Bowing his head in acknowledgment and with a slight upwards turn of his lips, picks up his water glass, his tongue suggestively rims the glass. That damn git. I know what he's assuming!

* * *

I don't know what to say upon opening the door, glancing at the bed and seeing him on it-in only his briefs. Black silk briefs cut low like a jockstrap. His bulge showing big.

I sigh, "Come on, Sherlock, give me a break! I only want to talk. I should leave, you know." I stand there...utterly transfixed.

          "We can talk, sit by me. I won't do anything unless you-."

Somehow I know I’m doomed. I know I would give him what he wanted. And isn't what you want? Isn't that why you're in his room?           "Sherlock, I want to tell you-" all ideas vanish from my head. Sitting on the bed I kiss him, my lips brushing his, crushing into his.

          "That's my John,” his voice breathy.

* * *

Making room for me next to him, I sneak a peek at his bulge, bringing mine up as well.  
Before I can contemplate the reality, I’m shedding my clothes, leaving only my briefs on.

* * *

          "Show me what to do. I know nothing."

          "Let's start easy and see what you like and don't."  
That night unraveled all the mysteries of sex with a man. True to his word he took it gradually, bringing my senses to a boil.  
Am I in love with Sherlock? Is it lust only? Not sure, and at the moment I don’t care. Whatever it is I’ll take it.

* * *

Up early, into my room, showering and dressing. Breakfast is a touchy mood for us. One moment needing to stay apart, the next closing in and pressing our bodies tight.

* * *

His parents go to Lisbon for two weeks. We make a game of having sex in each room and on as much of the furniture as we can climb on. The servants have raised eyebrows but Sherlock knows they won’t divulge out secret.

* * *

At school we keep a very, very low profile. I stop dating women. I do think some of my friends suspect something. They may be whispering behind our backs but no one attacks us directly.

* * *

Night and day, Sherlock is a part of my life. Nothing matters except school and Sherlock.  
The nice weather has us seeking the garden for trysts. The grass tickling our backs.  
The movies are particularly lively, sitting in the back row and giving in to our lust.

* * *

We get caught one time by the valet in the kitchen as I’m bent over the table, my trousers down to my ankles. He smiles, “continue gentleman,” closing the door and leaving us in a fit of nervous laughter.  
He never says a word to Sherlock’s parents, his faint smile as he passes by each time leaves me embarrassed.

* * *

How HARD it is to leave at the end of the school year...but leave I have to. I've been accepted into medical school in New York City.

We vow to keep in touch...and for the first year or so we do, texting and occasionally writing long letters of love and sex. Slowly as our lives change the contact becomes less and less. 

I forget about Sherlock...thinking it a teenager adventure.


	3. Another Start

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John finally realizes his love for Sherlock.

Dinner with my colleagues is a half-hearted affair. I enjoy our conversation. After all, it is my life’s work.  
My concentration though is up in 221, Sherlock's room The elevator ride, short though it is, seems eternal. His room, on the same floor as mine, is at the opposite end of the hall. I don’t have to worry about knocking, the door swings open as I stand in front.  
I half expected him to be in his briefs. He wasn't, but dressed in a silk purple shirt and black trousers, the look of which was tailored to his exacting measurements.

* * *

          "Welcome" he bows, sweeps his hand. "Come in. I have some tea and cupcakes ready. Yes, I’ve begun to enjoy gourmet cupcakes."   
I couldn't touch the cupcakes but had some tea instead, my hands giving me away in the shaking.

Sitting on the couch next to him I'm aware of his magnetism. His smell is so intoxicating, some pricey cologne I imagine.

* * *

          "Tell me about yourself, Sherlock, what you’ve been doing with your life," keeping the mood light, knowing damn well I was in over my head.  
          “I've found an interesting profession as a detective... a very successful one at that...with a large agency in London. I’ve even managed to have a lab over at Barts Hospital, remember that place...for my experiments. Still dabbling in science I've got a small lab at home, in my kitchen. My landlady is quite indulgent. I'm here for a holiday and thought it would be amusing to try my luck at gambling that is why Las Vegas."

* * *

His eyes turn to my hands sitting in my lap. "Married...wedding ring... and you did become a doctor. No children, I remember you saying you wanted none."

          “For the last twelve years to Mary, a nurse. She works at the local hospital and at my own office. I’ve two staff members. You're right, no children. We have an apartment in the city and lead a quiet life."

* * *

It's become quiet and awkward now. I don't know what to do. My eyes turn to his eyes, bright, direct. It seems we stare at each other forever.

I take a sharp gasp of breath and utter, "Well, it looks like we've both done well. I should be going. Need to be up early in the morning."

* * *

Standing up and ready to leave he motions me to sit.           "Stay a moment,” leaving, and within no time he’s back, dumping a magazine on my lap. As I see what the magazine is about I jump up, the magazine falling to the floor. It’s the "Out" periodical for gay men.

* * *

          "NO, NO, NO Sherlock. I won't be caught up in this now! Straight and married, that's me! DO YOU UNDERSTAND?" starting to the door, as the man clutches my arm. "Tomorrow night at seven. Be here."

I pull out of his grasp, bolt for the door, down the hall to my room. Once there I collapse in a chair, my head in my hands. 'No, no,' I say to myself, 'this is not happening AGAIN.'

Wearily I undress, into my PJ's and flop on the bed. Tossing and turning all night I've got admit that he’s still in my head. I may have gotten three hours sleep.

* * *

I get up in time to shower and dress in a gray suit with a light blue shirt and blue and yellow tie. Am I looking good for my colleagues or Sherlock? 

At breakfast with the doctors, we share stories and the latest technical innovations. Back into the conference room for the lectures, keeping my mind on them is demanding. I take notes, ask questions with one half of my mind, the other taken up in visions of me lying his the bed, being pleasured.  
I make one trip to the bathroom...not for the purpose of necessity but because my sexual urges take over.  
‘I am NOT going to his room’. That is the liturgy I keep saying over and over. ‘That was in my youth and it's over and done with.’

* * *

At dinner that night I’m pushing around my food on the plate, drinking more wine than I usually do.  
          “John, are you okay? You’ve been out of it today, your mind elsewhere,“ a doctor at my table notices.           "I think I'm coming down with something. I'm not going to eat much and, if you don't mind, I’ll go to my room.”  
He nods and jokingly, ”if you need a doctor I know where you can find one.” Laughing along with him I realize I have subconsciously left myself open to walk into 221.

* * *

The time comes around, I’m still in my seat at the dinner, not eating, not listening to any conversations.  
Damn, damn, damn! I can’t- the weakness, the fire in my gut makes me get up, say my good night's to my colleagues, walk to the elevator.  
No, not going- not giving in to this basest of all emotions. I start to turn towards my room...hesitate..about face to 221.

* * *

Again, before I knock, he opens up, I step into the room only to see he’s dressed in a long blue dressing gown.  
          "You're late, but I knew you'd be here,”arrogant as usual.

* * *

Shivering slightly I sit in one of the chairs. As I suspect this is a larger room than mine. It’s a corner one and there are more windows but the curtains are drawn to keep out, or maybe to keep in, whatever secrets are here.

* * *

He reaches out his hand and I take it, pulling me up close to him. I know I couldn't resist, helpless in his arms, taking whatever comes my way.

          "John" he whispers, "don't be afraid. We've been away from each other a long time. Come to the bedroom and let's get comfortable."

* * *

I move out of his arms, stand still but shivering, before deciding, turn my back to him...remove my clothes except for my briefs and place them carefully on the chair.  
Beside myself, keyed up, intoxicated with the moment and the man. 

His hand held out to me, I put mine in his. Once in the bedroom he sheds his dressing gown, lays down on the bed and opens his arms. Lying next to him his kisses are heaven. My briefs come off in his hands, our bodies cling tightly. The night is full of exploring our love and the needs of each other.

* * *

Each night I'm in his room, leaving in the morning to return to mine to shower and dress.

* * *

It comes time for me to leave for New York, convention over.  
He's in my room as I'm packing. "Sherlock, this time I want us to keep in touch, please!"

          "Yes my love, I promise that. When I get back to England I can set up Skype and we can chat live".

          "I don't want Mary to know. It would hurt her terribly. I'll text you when she's out of the house and we can communicate."

          "Can I at least see you off at the airport, John?"  
          "Not a good thought. Let's say our goodbyes now." Our kiss is heated but short, the cab waits for me.


	4. Back Home for John

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John goes back to New York and has a surprise visitor

Arriving home is not easy, getting back into a routine, being sunny and smiley with Mary, my thoughts having to settle quietly down.  
I'm constantly waiting, counting the minutes when I can text or Skype Sherlock, making sure no one is around. Sexting and watching each other on Skype is our only relief. 

Sherlock discusses ways for us to become a couple, I can't foresee that. I'm a married man.

* * *

After about three months of our separation, Sherlock is on Skype.           "I have to go away on business. I'll be texting you as soon as possible." 

I will miss what has become so routine.My relation with Mary is strained. She sees and feels the reserve in me. Our lovemaking a quick and dirty. We're home one evening just finishing dinner when our downstairs buzzer goes off. Mary looks quizzically at me and says," I'll get it. Wonder who that could be!"

It was the parking valet, Paul.           A gentleman is here to see you, a Sherlock Holmes. Do you know him?" He wants to park in one of our areas. The apartment has spots for our guests but we have to let them know who is coming.

* * *

Oh, lord, shit, damn, what to do? I have to let him up. Mary knows about him from my childhood.

Remain calm, Mary is looking at me. "Isn't that the student whose house you stayed at in England?"

My eyes wide, a quiver in my voice..."Yess, that's got to be him. Tell Paul to give him a spot and have him come up".

How in the HELL am I supposed to act? What was Sherlock doing HERE? What could I expect from him?

* * *

          "I'm so excited to meet this man, John. You told me you lost touch with him. Have you heard from him recently?"

          "No Mary, let's see what he's doing here."

I walk to the door just as the bell rings. Opening it to find Sherlock Holmes standing on my doorstep, grin on his face, arms outstretched.

          "John, oh John, let me look at you, it's been a long time, hasn't it," as he pushes me into the room, shutting the door behind him.

I can't respond, I'm frozen in space, heart going, brain numb.

Sherlock takes my limp hand and shakes it and looks to Mary.

          "I guess you must be John's love."

          "John, don't just stand there, introduce us!"

I turn around, do the introductions wooden-like and ask,"How the hell did you find me?"

All this subterfuge is for Mary.

* * *

          "I run a detective agency in London. I'm to be in New York for a few days on a case, looking you up made sense."

I recover myself and ask Sherlock to take his coat off and put his small suitcase on the floor next to the couch.

Mary asks, like the good hostess, if he wants some tea and he says yes.

She heads to the kitchen to get it, and I plonk down in my chair and glare at him. Sherlock sits on the edge of the couch looking at me with those beautiful eyes...full of love.

* * *

          "What the FUCK are you doing?" I whisper.

          "I couldn't be away from you. There's no case. I only flew here because of you."

Mary joins us with tea, cookies, and coffee for herself.

I have to maintain my composure in front of her. I begin asking him questions about his life, as Mary listens.           "Sherlock, are you staying at a hotel?"  
          "Yes, Mary."

Mary looks back to me,"John, why not have Sherlock stay here for the few days. We have the extra room."

          "Yes, I guess that would be good if Sherlock is agreeable"...silently hoping that he'll say no.

But..of course not, why should he! He's having the time of his life. He would love to stay.

* * *

Mary gets up," tomorrow is Sunday and I've got the early shift at the hospital. John, since you're home why not show Sherlock the sights?"  
Sherlock nods," I can certainly grab some time from my schedule."  


It's agreed we would meet here in the evening and order food in so no one cooks.

* * *

          "I'll leave you to reminisce over old days," kisses me and says her goodnight to Sherlock.

          "I'm going to kill you Sherlock. You've purposely put me in a spot. You dick!"  
We stare at each other...not knowing what to say or do, standing up at the same time.

          "John, let me get my other bags from the rental car."

* * *

He's left for the moment. What to do, what to do. Why the fuck does he always put me in situations!

* * *

He's back up with a larger suitcase. "Down the hall here is the extra bedroom and the bathroom is right next door to it."  
I'm avoiding eye contact, leaving him with a good night and see you in the morning. His hand pulls at my shoulder, drawing me close, lips on mine. I melt into him...quickly realize my place and move away.

          "See you in the morning, my love" he whispers, his look suggestive and closes the door to his bedroom.

* * *

I am glad that Mary's sleeping. Not in the mood for a talk. The night passes very slowly and when Mary wakes I feign sleep. She leaves and I fall back to sleep.

* * *

What wakes me next is my bedroom door opening. In walks Sherlock. I quickly look around.

          "Don't worry, she left about an hour ago," without a word climbing into my bed.

          "No not here, I don't feel right."

* * *

Without giving it a second thought, without any indecision on my part we're in the guest room.

* * *

The joy of touching and feeling this man is such a high. Everything is forgotten except the moment.

Thoroughly sated we lay side by side.           "Sherlock, we should get up and go out. Mary is expecting us to see New York."

          "I have it worked out. I want to see the Museum of Natural History. I can look online to describe it to her in detail later."

He turns on his side, and I must say I grinned and gave my consent. What a few happy hours we had!

* * *

About the time that Mary was due back we showered and ordered in food. Mary enters, discarding her coat and shoes, kissing me she insists we eat right away. She's hungry.  
          "Let's have some wine with our Chinese food, and tell me all about today. We also talk about the days I had spent in England and Sherlock asks how I met Mary.As I tell my tale, Mary has her hand on my thigh, suggestive. This is too much for me. Ignoring it, we continue, and she moves it off.

* * *

These next few days fly by, with Sherlock and I together, me taking time from the clinic. The last day we walk around the town. The weather is balmy.

* * *

          "I can certainly tell that you and Mary are not in a good place!"  
          "To be honest with you it's not been good even before you and I met in Las Vegas. This has gotten ridiculous. I'm madly in love with you and can't believe it survived all these years. I'm asking Mary for a divorce."  
          " I'm so glad I made the decision to fly here. I've been asking myself what to do about us...and you've answered the question. Are you sure though?"  
Stopping in the middle of the block I back him into one of the trees lining the edge of the pavement and kiss him fervently.  
          "Does that answer your question? I don't give a figs ass what people think of us."

* * *

Mary insists we eat at a nice restaurant for Sherlock's last night in New York. I would have LOVED to have spent it alone with him...but that was not going to happen.  
My last night, and I couldn't spend it in his arms.

* * *

Mary was home for the morning. Sherlock had to leave to turn in the car and get on the plane.

All I could do was shake his hand, thank him for the visit and see him out the door. I was miserable.

* * *

It took two days for me to work up the courage to discuss this with Mary. On the couch next to her, not knowing what to expect I jump right in."I have something to discuss with you, my dear."

          "I think I know what you're going to say. You want a divorce, am I right?"

          "Yes Mary...and..."

          "No let me tell you... it's Sherlock isn't it?"

          "Oh don't look so shocked! I knew it after only a few days seeing you together. You couldn't stop staring at each other. Am I upset that you're gay? A bit maybe, but if it's what you want then go ahead."  
Stunned by her knowledge and her quiet acceptance, I don't respond.  
          And we haven't been in love for quite awhile, so let's do this easy, no reason to fight. We probably can just go into mediation, if that's okay with you".

* * *

I was in heaven! This was going to be easier than I thought.

Later that night I call Sherlock and we celebrate with a round of wine and some online sex.

* * *

It would be easier for him get a visa and to move his detective agency to New York.

It took almost a year and in that time Sherlock and I continued to text and Skype. It was difficult not having him in my arms, but we knew the end was in sight.

          "I wish you all the happiness with Sherlock. I know it was a long time coming. Be careful," Mary said, as the last of her belongings moved out.

I'm going to keep this apartment with Sherlock. 

Finally the great day arrives! I meet Sherlock at the airport and we drive to our home. That sounds so good!


End file.
